Pa. Ranjith, the director of Madras, delineates the many layers of his film in a conversation
Madras has been highly appreciated for its authentic portrayal of life in north Chennai.
Well, it was about time somebody showed it as it really is. For some reason, while Tamil films have had honest portrayals of life in cities like Madurai and Coimbatore, north Chennai has always been shown rather insincerely. I have received several calls from people in slums to thank me for the film. One guy who called me said that he did not sleep for three days after seeing the film, as he relate so closely to Anbu’s character. Another small boy from a slum asked, “Why have you made a movie about us?” He used the word ‘us’. It pleased me immensely.
The North Chennai slang was particularly impressive. Johnny’s (a character in the film) dialogues were a riot.
Thank you. You should know, however, that a few popular critics were unconvinced about the dialect. One person said that I hadn’t used words like ‘kaidha’ or ‘kasmaalam’ in the film. Thanks to Tamil cinema, many people still imagine that it’s these words that constitute what they refer to as ‘Madras baashai’. Nobody there talks like these people think they do! I guess it’s too much to expect people to know these things, considering we have always shown people from north Chennai only as rowdies or comedians.
You’ve agreed that the film is a commentary on the Dalit situation. Why was that your aim?
I wanted to show their situation as it is. I doubt any other Tamil filmmaker, except perhaps V. Sekhar, has shown it as honestly. I wanted to show that these people are taken advantage of by those who claim to be their representatives. Unless they rise through education and awareness, this situation will not change.
What was your childhood like? Did it motivate the story in a way?
I guess you could say so. I grew up in Karalapakkam, near Avadi. In these outskirts, areas are segregated into ‘ooru’ and ‘colony’. Those who live in the ‘colony’ usually belong to the lower castes and are neglected. I grew up in a Karalapakkam colony, and saw firsthand the difference in treatment meted out to my community. From schools to playgrounds, we were always treated differently. Many characters in my film resemble people I grew up with there.
Do you believe that such casteism as it exists within the city?
Caste politics in the city become most obvious during events such as marriages. Almost every locality in the city has a slum, but do you not see how different they are… how little the dwellers interact with their wealthy neighbours? Do you not see that they are strategically placed by the Cooum river? When you search for a rented apartment, do you not see how they want you to abstain from non-vegetarian food, and even if they are fine with it, they want you to stay away from beef?
Beef is taboo here, isn’t it? Tell me a bit about the whole beef-as-taboo theme. Is it because some groups consider the cow to be holy?
I was happy to show my protagonist eating beef in my debut film Attakathi. It happens in reality, so why must we pretend it doesn’t? One of my friends submitted a short story to a popular regional magazine about a man who eats beef biriyani at night. The story was selected and published, but all references to beef biriyani were changed to mutton biriyani! Unavu kooda saadhiya maarudha inga? (Will even food become a casteist issue?) We must have conversations about these things. A rooster is representative of a Hindu god too. Several animals represent several gods. They don’t seem to be taboo, though, do they? My point is that we don’t think about how such little things continue to exist unseen under the blanket of public consciousness.
You seem passionate about such topics. Will all your films be political in nature?
I think they will at least have some minor commentary on the subject. I won’t ever preach though. Enough is not spoken in the public domain about to educate some undermined invisible classessocieties. Look at the our shirt we are wearing. Just Think about the number of people who have worked on it to bring it to us. The person who stitched it, the person who transported it, the person who washed it… you get the idea. We are nothing if we are not supportive of each other, and are mindful of the work other people put in to get us every possession we value.
Were you saying through this film seems to say that somebody from the community members must rise up for themselves? to stand for its people?
In fact, I was trying to show that the people who rise from the community end up taking advantage of the very group of people they promised to help. Underprivileged people must ask some questions. Why is north Chennai so unglamorous? Why are we living by the Cooum? Why are we given a narrow strip to live on? Why’s a large family made to live in a 10x10 unit? Job opportunities, water problems…
Recently, a Hindu boy married a Dalit girl, and the ensuing uproar resulted in 285 Dalit huts being burnt down in Dharmapuri. This didn’t happen in some random disconnected part of India. This happened in our neighbourhood. What’s to stop it from happening to us? People should think.
Your film started with reality. Why not keep it real until the end? For somebody who’s so particular about realistic portrayals, some scenes in the second half (mainly fight scenes) weren’t really in sync with reality.
We decided that until the fight scene in the second half, we’d make realistic cinema. After that, we’d make commercial cinema. It was a point of demarcation.
Why not keep it real until the end?
For commercial reasons, we had to make some compromises.
Were you worried that the audience may not see through the layers of Madras?
Not really. I think we have among the most intelligent audience, one that appreciates all kinds of cinema. They simply want to be entertained.
Did you tell the producer know at the outset that you had these political layers underneath the story?
I told him I wanted to portray north Madras in an authentic manner, and that I wanted to show the problems rampant there. I was simply asked not to stir trouble or do anything overly controversial. I don’t think I’ve done either. The original purpose of the film, of course, was to entertain.
Both your protagonists (Attakathi and Madras) are not really the most sophisticated, city slickers. Do you think you can step away from the life you have seen, and make a film about, say, an educated, wealthy, trendy businessman?
Why not? I have a script called Manjal which talks about the problems in such a person’s life. I may even make it my next film, who knows?
The wall lives and breathes in your film…
I wrote it as a living thing. In every scene that had the wall, I wrote how I wanted it to look. ‘The wall looks grim.’ ‘The wall stands tall.’ ‘The wall looks menacing.’ ‘The wall is basking in sunlight.’ I enjoy creating the ambience in a story. In fact, I created a team to set up life in the background. If you plan to watch
Madras again, focus this time only on the people in the background… you will notice how incredibly realistic they are. Not a single character will be out of place, doing something they shouldn’t be.
No smoking, drinking or alcohol scenes were shown in Madras too. Was this a conscious decision?
Yes. I think too many films romanticise alcohol and cigarettes unnecessarily. I don’t think it’s something to be celebrated. Of course, if it’s indispensable in a story, I may end up filming it. But if I can help it, I won’t. Similarly, my films will never have anybody mocking a transsexual or a bald person or a mentally/physically challenged person in the name of humour. I’ve never found such scenes to be funny.
What pleases you the most about the appreciation that Madras has received?
That other filmmakers may now be motivated to make similarly authentic movies about slum dwellers, and portray them as one of us. That some guy somewhere now realises that all north Chennai men are not scary criminals.
*This report has been corrected for editing error
Source: The Hindu dt 19-10-14
